


Gut Instinct

by ShyChangling



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Abuse of a prisoner, Gen, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Threats of Cannibalism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23298907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyChangling/pseuds/ShyChangling
Summary: Washington wakes from a nightmare. A memory of moments weeks before. He's missing a chunk in his arm. And now his only lead to find Epsilon is through a Medic who barely has any survival skills.Worse being. They're running low on food.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Gut Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> I had written this a few months back and finally I worked it well enough I feel confident enough to post.
> 
> I had written it because I remembered some lines in season 8 and season 8 Washington is a version of Wash I absolutely adore writing.

Wash had stayed quiet the entire session. Maine, no, The Meta struggled on the other end against his binds. Fingernails gripping into his own skin as he zapped and slowly cut along those very wounds. 

Wash looks away. There was no point to this here. Why keep him in here while they work to tame a beast. 

Hargrove stays a safe distance as his guards work. He occasionally glances a smile to Washington as if this is a pleasant visit. Wash only snarls back at him. "Now, Washington, we don't need two beast men here this evening." Hargrove says lightly and then he pauses. Contemplation on his face. He snaps his fingers.

Meta growls and relaxes once the guards had backed away.

"Perhaps some proper sheep dog training will do." Hargrove heads to the door, he thumbs his hand over a remote. The one holding both Wash and the Meta in place on opposite sides of the room.

\--

Washington bolts awake in the desert. His breath is fast and panicked. He hears Maine's.. Meta's low tired growls. Right he's on watch. Where's the prisoner! Washington stands and looks to the other side of the small desert fire. 

Doc was laid out cold near the fire. His hair let loose around him and without a helmet. 

Washington grabs his own. They really shouldn't be sleeping without those. He walks to Meta and nudges him. "My turn for watch."

\--

Doc wakes finally as the day sets in. To Washington and Meta putting out the flames. He sits up works the sand out of his hair. Then begins to braid it before he finds Washington knocking his hands away and the Meta cuffing him. "You know I'm not going to run. Where in the world would I go?! I don't even know where this is!"

Washington braids up his hair and shoves the helmet back on him. "Shut up. We don't have time for this. We're back to scouting and you're going to tell us everything you know about your friends in Blood Gulch."

"I don't know how much I can actually call them my friends after being left behind for you two to take prisoner."

Washington smacks him on the back to force him to start walking. He's not sure how good a bargain chip the medic is. Honestly the only good he is for is keeping Meta's health in check. Possibly for bandaging them up in case of injury.

Guess he could make good for meat if they run out of rations. Washington scowers at himself for the thought. Where did..that come from.

Washington scowls further. Watching the medic stumble forward on his feet. Over to the Meta. His voice blurs in. Talking to Meta about something worthless and stupid. Of no concern to anyone. How thin Doc looks, how easily he could be broken in two.

Washington looks at his gun. He probably wouldn't make for much of a meal. But the medic has no other use. No survival instinct but to suck up to who ever has him captured it seems. How pathetic. Tedious. At least as meat he could spare them their rations and they can continue a few more days longer. He deserves this. He deserves everything Wash throws at him.

Something starts to buzz in Washington's ears. He pulls back the hammer on the gun. He sees himself shoot Lopez and that Donut fellow a week before now. He wonders what flesh taste like.

He raises his gun aiming at Doc's back. How easy it is to take a life. He then drops his arm to his side. As sound finally returns to him. Putting his gun away quickly as the medic turns around to him. He can't see their face but he knows Doc has a look of concern. Pathetic.

Washington feels his shoulder. Still numb but healing. He takes a deep breath in as he remembers teeth baring into his arm. Scrapping at the skin and tearing at the cloth and flesh.

Washington looks over to Mai-Meta.. He's Meta. There never will be a Maine again. 

\--

Later that night as they set up their newest camp in the now empty temple, only corpses liter the outside. 

The medic's hands have been freed but he's taken out of his armor, leg tied to rubble to keep him in place. Doc looks bored and tired of the routine. "Can't we just you know. Not tie me to everything you find? Wouldn't be easier just to trust I won't run off?"

"No."

"Can we talk about the aliens then. I mean certainly they hurt your feelings but there's no reason you had to ki-."

"Hey, Dufresne. If you don't shut up, I might have to get some cloth to shove down your throat. How's that?"

Meta looks over to Washington's direction seeming with a laugh like growl.

Doc's face softens to a nervous frame and backs closer to the debris. "Right well. Of course. I really ought to know my place. You know. I just figured it would be good to start trusting each other with things and where else am I to go right?"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up." Washington takes off his helmet and looks at him sternly. "Don't make me say it a third time, Dufresne."

Doc curls and mumbles into his knees now curled to his chest. "I would rather appreciate if you didn't call me that while yelling at me."

Washington snorts and then lowers his shoulders. He scrubs at his temples and groans. He then plops down to the new fire being built. God he’s hungry. He’s sure Meta is too.

Rations taste so bland. And worse.

Washington looks to Doc and previous spiraling thoughts return.

He looks to Meta. Who looks back to him with a head tilt that almost seems sad, lonely. Hungry.

Meta shakes his head but then looks further to the ground. He growls.

“I know. We don’t have much left.”

Wash smiles briefly. “But we have food to spare. I promise you.”

Doc pulls at his braid and looks horrified. “Look. We can’t eat anyone outside. That’s barbaric!”

“That’s survival.” Wash responds back. "And who says this is aimed to anyone already dead."

Meta is silent. Contemplation. Then there’s a laugh. A throaty growling laugh.

Doc nervously chuckles. Wondering if he had missed some inside joke.

Meta then leans off the wall and moves over to Doc. 

Doc tenses feeling a hand through his hair. In such a way he’s remind of the way O’malley would do in their mind space. Doc’s eyes are wide and looks up at Meta’s helmet, only seeing his frightened reflection back.

“Well seems Meta thinks my idea is well and good. And you did want to see if he would eat people.”

Doc tenses and looks at Wash. Winces as fingers now dig and pull into his hair. “Wait! I didn’t actually mean me!” Doc grabs up at Meta’s arm and then turns his face up at Meta’s hand and bites into the fabric of his suit. “Further again! I say it's -”

Meta makes what sounds like a purr and gets on his knees. Pulling Doc down to the sand and rocks. Then holds him down by his shoulders.

Doc attempts to kick his legs out in his struggling. But the armor on Meta drags against the rock causing an ear piercing scrape.

Meta leans away and tries to cover their ears. 

Washington sees Doc get up to run only to fall onto his face as Doc soon remembers he’s tied to the rubble.

Washington stands and gets out his knife. “You’re really not much to look at you know that?”

Meta stands next to Wash finally the ringing in his ears had stopped and he now had nothing more to do then feel that old rage in his stomach to kick at the medic for causing the sound in the first place.

Doc winces and tenses as Meta stands in front of him and Washington over his back. Legs on either side of him. Dropping his weight onto him and there’s that point into his back. That pressure that tells Doc there’s a knife.

“I’ll shut up! I promise! No more words out of me! You can even yell at me and call me Dufresne all you want!” Doc pleads.

But the knife is pushed further into the suite. Doc feels the cold steel now on his flesh. “PLEASE.” The knife breaks the skin. Going deeper. And then.

Meta lifts Doc’s head up with the tip of his foot. He looks to Washington and tilts his head with a growl.

Washington scoffs and takes his knife away. “Why do you gotta bring reason into this. You’re the one who bite me in the first place.”

Doc doesn't’ get the context. He wasn’t there in that room with them. He wasn’t there with Meta in a blind rage tore into Washington’s arm with his teeth. Wasn’t there when they were both tranquilized. 

Doc doesn't know their history all he knows if the knife is away from his back and he has sand stuck to his face.

Meta seemed to of spared him. But now, there’s hands touching gently on his back.

“We have no storage box.”

Doc’s face is dropped back into the dirt. Meta makes his way to the entrance and growls.

Washington nods. “Yeah. Really don’t got a choice do we.”

Doc feels like he’ll throw up

\--

Doc sits in front of the fire. A dead look to his eyes. He grips his shoulder and the bandage.

There’s meat slow roasted on it. Washington claims its some type of local animal. But after this, Doc isn’t so sure. The meat is set in front of Doc and the two Freelancers eat at their own leisure.

“Are we.. going to talk about..this at all?”

Washington regrets giving up on the kill. “No.”


End file.
